


Panther Paws and Falcon Claws

by ratchet_intellectual



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Black in Fanfiction, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, T'Challa learning about Black culture and America, a lot of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6839611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratchet_intellectual/pseuds/ratchet_intellectual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seeing T'Challa for the first time, Sam falls in love. After they become good friends, Sam is too deep in his feelings to pull away. T'Challa has a duty to his people but he finds something in Sam that he can't shake. The story of how their relationship grows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Breathe He Stole

**Author's Note:**

> Mixed MCU with some comic elements. Characters might be added as the story progresses. I love this pairing to death and I hope you enjoy.

It wasn’t often that Sam found himself breathless. After the war, the sights that once made his heart warm didn’t have the same effect. It got better after therapy and even more so after meeting Steve and Natasha but there was always the pang of emptiness in the back of his mind. He tried to fill it volunteer work and friends but it didn’t quite fill that small crevasse in the right way. It was as if he was trying to stuff a square into a rectangular hole; for the most part it was okay but it wasn’t exactly right. So it was a very big surprise when his breathe cut in the back of his throat after seeing the Great King of Wakanda enter the room.

This was probably nothing new for the king himself. Everything about him was royal in nature: the even set of his broad shoulders, the confident tilt in his head, his unwavering straight face that belied nothing but a calm, serious demeanor. But for Sam, it wasn’t any of those things that grabbed his attention. It was the depth of his dark brown eyes that seemed to go on for miles that had him stunned. Sam knew the importance of holding eye contact after years of military training but at this point he was just staring mindlessly. 

T’Challa had walked into the Shield meeting room with Tony who, in his usual bravado, introduced the king in his excessively gracious manner before taking a seat next to Steve. Sam eyes him the entire time. He looked across the table at Steve who  was currently watching Tony with warped attention. The meeting started once Director Fury walked into the room. The lights dimmed as a holographic depiction of the next assignment’s landscape came into view. In the lowered lighting, Sam was free to stare all he wanted at the man who stood against the wall behind Tony’s seat.

T’Challa obviously was a fit man, well muscled and tall. He was built similarly to Cap(didn’t his brief say something about a Panther serum?) with firm pecs and huge biceps. His waist was trim...and Sam couldn’t help but drag his eyes down the king’s toned legs. 

“And Thor and Falcon, I need you two on air reconnaissance  with Falcon doing covert intel gathering and Thor for a back defensive measures. No action unless Captain gives the orders and Thor, none of that flashy stuff. I need quick and silent.”

“Aye Director. It is not my usual means of combat but even I know how to take action inconspicuously.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Falcon,” Fury spun the blueprints around and Sam actually focused on them first time now, to show the outer layout of the building. “This should be easy enough for you.Stark’s camo suit isn’t operational at the moment....” The director looked up at the billionaire engineer who simply shrugged with a devil may care smile. Sam made a mental note to ask Steve what that was about. Fury turned his attention back to him.

“Gather as much as you can but I need the details. Any flaws any weak points, I want it scanned and documented.”

“Yes sir.” 

Sam didn’t dare turn his gaze away from the hologram because he felt T’Challa’s eyes weighing down on him. He became self conscious, straightening his back and coughing to push out his chest. God, what is he even doing? His face heated up, feeling stupid for showing off like a peacock to a mate as if it would get him a second look over from the king. 

Fury went on to discuss everyone else’s role and the meeting wrapped up with minor maintenance check ins. As the team flooded out of the room, Sam hung around at Steve’s side. He, Tony, and T’Challa were talking about something.  

“I have only been to Africa once exactly. To Wakanda. You weren’t born then.” Steve said smiling. “I think I got my ass handed to me by your father.”

T’Challa smirked. “Grandfather. I know the story well Captain. I believe you were trying to infiltrate our borders.” Steve chuckled sheepishly.

“That’s the good ol’ U.S. of A for you. Secret missions filled with half truths.”Tony interjected after looking up from his phone. 

“Indeed…”T’Challa drawled “Your government does have a pension for corrupt behavior.” Steve sat stunned and awkward. Sam felt as though it was a good time to ease his way into the conversation now. He came between the two men with a hand held out. 

“I don’t think we have been previously introduced. Name’s Sam Wilson. Nice to meet you your Highness.”

T’Challa grasped his hand firmly and goddamn if Sam’s heart didn’t yo-yo from his chest to his stomach. The king was gorgeous and Sam had to pull away before he started drooling.

“Hello.” He was so gorgeous when he smiled. Tony must have saw the way he was looking and came up with a real evil plan.

“Sam, actually, why don’t you show Blac Panther around the tower? Me and Steve have a meeting.” For a moment the captain looked confused before quickly recovering.

“Yeah, an important meeting. Top priority. High security.” Steve agreed, smirking a bit. The bastard.

“I will have the car get you guys in the front. Me and the good captain must take our leave. Black Panther you are in good hands, Sam is wonderful.” The engineer slide his sunglasses from his head and back over his eyes. Steve and him were already off into their own little lover’s world. As they walked out the room, Sam caught Steve sliding his arm around the small of Tony’s back to pull the man to his side.

Alone together, the emptiness of the room was deafening. Sam looked out the window at the New York skyline before meeting the king’s eyes. T’Challa stared back seemingly unphased. Sam gestured to the door.

“After you.” 

The two proceeded downstairs to the large SHIELD lobby. Just as Tony said, a sleek black car was pulled up to the curb waiting for them. Sam hurried ahead to open up the back door for the Wakandan before sliding in next to him. The driver pulled off without a word into the busy New York traffic.

“You don’t have to do that Mr. Wilson.” T’Challa said with a small smile, his eyes dancing. “We are equals here.” Sam laughed nervously.

“I guess...I have never meet royalty before. Black Panther and Wakanda are a pretty big deal.” T’Challa shooked his head. 

“I am happy that you hold my country in high regard but don’t treat me any differently. Please call me T’Challa”

“Okay, then call me Sam.”

 

* * *

 

“And this is the common lounge.” Sam said as they stood in the lounge. The spacious room had floor to ceiling windows, a large flat screen, a L sectional that was perfect for lazy days watching Netflix. “The kitchen is around the corner.”

T’Challa looked around as if he was curious but his face was blank. 

“How do you like America so far?” Sam asked nervously, watching as the king roamed the room.

“I’ve been here several times.” he said, picking up and examining one of the books on the self. “But never like this...We are chilling?” The word was clearly foreign on his tongue and Sam let out a low chuckle.

“Yes we are chillin’. It’s a different feel when you aren’t diplomatically saving the world.” He laid on the couch and to turn on the TV. He decided on CNN and kept the volume just below a soft buzz so the conversation can still flow.

“The first time I came to America, I was so surprised. My father told me about this country, said that they had selfish, evil intentions under a kind veneer. We don’t get a lot of western media in Wakanda so I only had books to go off of.”

“So,” Sam said looking over the back of the couch“what did you conclude?”T’Challa thought for a long moment before looking at Sam.

“That it’s wasn’t entirely hopeless. If the west could create great men, they couldn’t all be bad.” Sam nodded thoughtfully.

“I guess. America and me have a complex relationship to say the least.”

The king rounded the sofa and sat down besides the man. After the long conversations they had, Sam was more comfortable with him but that didn’t stop his heart from speeding up a bit.

“Colonialism was a great terror I’m glad my countrymen never went through. I couldn’t imagine being ripped away from my home and forced into bondage.”

“Me neither.” The mood became somber after that and they had a silent, mutual agreement to end the conversation. Sam turned about the volume to a news story about some terrorist attack in the middle east. It then turned to the political campaign and the candidate’s recent antics. 

“Do you know about basketball?” Sam asked without looking away from the TV. From the corner of his eye he saw T’Challa smirk.

“No not at all. America has a domination on all things balls and baskets.”

“Hey I don’t know!” Sam laughed and soaked up the king’s warm smile. He did that; he put that smile on his face and that was something to take pride in. 

“It’s one of the few things Wakanda has taken as valuable though I am not familiar with the American teams.”  Sam rubbed his hands together with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Perfect!” He turned the channel to ESPN. “I don’t know how it goes down in Wakanda but here, the Lakers reign supreme.”

T’Challa’s smile grew wider and Sam’s heart took off. 


	2. In My Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam meets the Dora Milaje.

The first time Sam met the Dora Milaje, he almost crapped in his pants. It was a few weeks after T’Challa first came to the tower, back from some important kingly work in his home country. Sam waited in the lobby for him and was stunned. Two tall, beautiful bald women flanked the king. They stood proud with their tribal markings, a stark contrast against their dark sin. T’Challa was typing away at something that looked like a phone(probably a Wakandan equivalent that was a thousand times better than the latest smartphone available in America).The women weren’t in their usual armor and were instead dressed in simple but sharp black dresses. When the king noticed the ex-soldier he smiled brightly.

“Sam! I would like you to meet some people.” He said as they came together. T’Challa was dressed in a black skin tight shirt and black fitted pants that were made out of some material Sam had never seen. Sam had long decided that this man and his wardrobe were going to be the death of him.

“These are my Dora Milaje. This is Nakia,” he said gesturing to the woman to his left. “And this is Okoye.” Sam smiled as charmingly as he could managed but the women were utterly unimpressed with him. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sam Wilson.” He held out his hand but neither warrior motioned to return the gesture. T’Challa chuckled at their reaction.

“They take their job very seriously. They are the finest Wakanda has to offer.” He stepped forward to Sam’s side and looked back at his guards. “And I am trying to convince them that it’s fine if we go out alone.”  
Nakia’s frown deepened.

“Your majesty this country is unpredictable. We need to be able to reach you no matter what. It isn’t wise to leave without us.” T’Challa gave a weary smile.

“Your king is in good hands ladies.” This only served to deepen the women’s glare.

“Give us an hour.” T’Challa raised his wrist to show some type of high tech bracelet. “I have my communicator and W’Kabi is still tracking me. I’ll be fine. Relax and enjoy the amenities of the tower.”

“Your high-”T’Challa held up his hand. 

“This is an order from the Black Panther.” He said firmly. After a beat, the guards straightened and nodded.

“Understood.”

“Don’t worry ladies, I’ll bring him home before street lights come on.” The Dora Milaje didn’t laugh. 

With that, T’Challa lead Sam out the door and into the streets. Sam gave a low whistle.

“Oh man, can you pull that card whenever you want? ‘I am the Black Panther, do as I say!’.” He said in a particularly awful Wakandan accent. The warrior king chuckled.

“I suppose but it’s not something I like to do. A good king shouldn’t always have to use his status to sway his people. They should truly believe in my word.” Sam stopped short of his friend.

“ ‘A good king should be true of heart’.You’re adorable.” Internally, Sam froze up. The comment touched on feelings that bubbled softly under the surface. The past couple of times they have been together he always felt one misstep away from ruining everything. The Black Panther didn’t seem to notice, just kept smiling like the sun.

“How dare you call The Great King of Wakanda adorable? I am a fearsome embodiment of the Panther God.”

“All I hear is that you are a little kitty cat.” Sam said, his smirk hiding his burning heart. He flagged down a taxi.

“I am offended Bird man.” T’Challa said as he ducked into the cab. 

"Put some respeck on my name bruh.” Sam said laughing. When he climbed into the car after the Wakandan, he noticed the king’s blank look. 

“I’ll show you the video later but first, you’re going to try soul food. And only the best for his majesty. Mama’s Dinner please.” The driver grunted and peeled off.

"Soul food. Based on slave food and has evolved to encompass several fatty elements that lead to obesity.” The Wakandan said raising an eyebrow.

"Yup. It’s delicious and not even a lil bit nutritious. It’s great, you’ll love it.” The American pulled out his phone and slide it on.

"I want to show you something. Here.” He clicked a yellow app that opened to a front camera. 

"What pointless application is this?”

"This is Snapchat.” Sam said. He pressed himself to the king’s side so both of their faces were in view. For a moment the two men looked at each through the camera. Sam takes in T’Challa gleaming dark eyes and teasing smile. The smooth expanse of deep brown skin right there for his fingers, his lips, his tongue, to touch. 

"If you hold down your face you can add images. Look,” First he showed him the dog filter. “When you open your mouth stuff comes out.” After gaining puppy eyes, an animated tongue went flying out his mouth. “Cool right?”

T’Challa gave his signature smug smirk that Sam wanted to kiss off his face.

“It’s nice for American technology.” He said.

“Do you personally get off on the feeling of superiority or are all Wakandans this arrogant?”

“It’s hard not to feel superior when you are superior.” He replied, eyes burning with mirth.

"Everything here feels like a project done by a young school child who is looking for praise. It’s entertaining.” Up front the driver sucked his teeth.

“Damn foreigners, can’t stand your stuck up attitudes! You hate America so much then go back to your booty scratching hut!” He made a hard stop in the middle of traffic. “Ged outta my cab the both of ya.”

Sam blinked once then twice trying to find out where this all went wrong. “Really my ma-” he started, but T’Challa simply pulled him out of the car. The irate taxi driver zoomed off before they even closed the door.

"Never let it be said that the American people lack class, decorum, and manners.” T’Challa  deadpanned. 

“It’s that kind of smart talk that got us kicked out in the first place.” Sam snapped back without any venom. They waved through the cars, who were not at all happy about their presences in the street, and made it back to the side walk. Sam took in his surroundings; they were only a few blocks away from the restaurant now so it wouldn’t be a hard walk.

“Look on the bright side,” the Wakandan said. “we didn’t have to pay.” The African American man rolled his eyes as the king laughed. 

* * *

 

“So? How is it?” Sam watched T’Challa curiously as the man ate his first forkful of colla greens. The king ate slowly, testing the flavors out for the first time.

“It’s...I see why it’s addicting.” He stated simply before eating so more. He happily took a piece of chitlin out of the the green mound before getting a big helping of mac and cheese. Sam made a face.

"Dude, you know what that is right?”

"Pig intestines correct? I’ve eaten every part of the animal back home. This is amazing though.” He took another slice to prove his point. “I can feel my heart clogging as we speak.” Sam started to crack up.

"It’s good for your soul not good for your heart.” 

The waitress, Desiree, came back with a plate of fat, buttery biscuits. She smiled and placed the platter down between the two superheros. From behind her, Sam saw some of her coworkers giggling into open menus. Her eyes dart from the table to over her shoulder at the other waitresses. 

“Here are the biscuits you ordered. How is everything else?”

"Just fine, thanks.”

"I…” she looked over her shoulder again. “I don’t want to be weird about this but...are you The Falcon?” T’Challa broke out into a wide grin as Sam looked at his plate astonished. 

"Yes m’am.” 

“Oh my God, I’m sorry but can I get a selfie with you? Your my son’s favorite hero and oh my god, is it okay if my co-workers come over?” But it was too late, they were already swarming their table.

Sam never made a show to hide his identity; he was never bombarded for autographs like Steve or Tony. His picture was never used for the front page of any news publication nor were there any candid shots of him on the internet. Ex-paratrooper turned therapist is less interesting than a Norse alien god. Being surrounded by clamoring fans rarely happened to him so it was something to appreciate when it happened. 

"Aight, say cheese!” All the workers crowded Sam and stared at the phone until it flashed.”Okay one more for the gram.”

“Don’t you guys have jobs to do?” The ex-soldier asked playfully. “Where’s your manager?”

“Right here.” A Black man said sheepishly. He was in a button up and slacks, unlike the “Mama’s Dinner” polos the other employees were wearing. “I couldn't resist. I’m Marvin Harvest. Thanks for all your work out there, your meals on me.” Sam shook his head, hands up in modesty.

“No need to thank me. If anything, I’m a sidekick.” Desiree balked. 

“You are not a sidekick! You are a regular guy fuckin’ up bad guys with thunder gods and assassins that’s so fucking cool!” She turned to T’Challa. “Are you another Black hero?”

“Something like that.”

“Let me guess,” said another waitress, Shayna. “Power man?”

“No.”

“Static Shock, Cyborg, Brother Voodoo? Blade? Holy crap are you Blade?” T’Challa just smiled and shook his head no. “C’mon give me a hint, there are only like ten of y’all runnin around here.”

"Let’s just say he’s new to the scene. He’s a king.” Sam snickered. It was a moment before a waiter name Jamal let out a loud sound of realisation.

“Yooooo! Are you Prince of that futuristic African nation? Dude, I did a report on you in high school!”

“Yes, I am King T’Challa from Wakanda. I am very happy to be here in your care.”

“Marvin! He a prince, you betta make him pay for this meal.” The manager glared at his worker.

“Act like you were raised somewhere!” He said. “Wow, this is amazing. Do you mind if I post this to our twitter? It’s not everyday a  rich African Prince comes to my dinner.”

“It would be our pleasure.” Sam had never seen the king look so soft and open. This must be the expression he uses with his people that made him so beloved in his home country.

Since the other customers had already left, the manager decide to close early. The workers talked with the two well into the late evening after taking several more pictures in and in front of the store. At eight, many of them had to go. Instead of taking a cab, T’Challa and Sam decided to walk Desiree home.

“Y’all are too sweet. I wish more men were like you two.”She said dreamily.

In the the warm light of the setting sun, her brown skin seemed to glow. Her locs were down from it’s tight ponytail from before and cascaded down her back, swinging gently with every step. T’Challa walked besides her, his body strong lines and muscular curves. Sam decided that together, they made a lovely picture and that she was the kind of woman he deserved. 

“It’s an honor.” T’Challa replied. Desiree, clearly smitten, could do nothing but look away bashfully. They arrived at her apartment after a few minutes of companionable silence. She turned to the two superheros grinning hard. 

“I know this might be a bit extra but do you think you can come in and meet my son? This would make his day!” She request, eyes pleading. “ He has all your toys Sam.” The Falcon smirked.

“That’s impressive, I can’t even find my own toys.” He joked. “T’Challa, we already stayed out pretty late do you thi-” He was interrupted by a loud aircraft that closed in on them from above.

The vehicle was like a small private jet but was sleeker. It was easily able to hover in the air perfectly still without the usually slight up and down motion Sam was accustom to seeing. Everyone on the streets stopped to look up and some people poked their heads out from their apartments above.Many had their phones out and pointed at the aircraft. It wasn’t every day a plane like that came to Harlem. 

“Huh...I didn’t think it would take them this long.” T’Challa stated as if this was natural.

“You know them?” Sam asked, pointing to the sky at the aircraft. T’Challa actually looked sheepish for a moment.

“I may have left my watch on the cab. Just to give us some extra time.” The Dora Milaje descended to the ground from ropes in the plane. They didn’t look happy. Sam turned to Desiree.

“Those are his kickass all female bodyguards.” Like any other reasonable person, the waitress looked impress.

“Cool.” She murmured as they marched towards them. “I think I should go. Here,” She pulled out a bit of paper and pen from her pocketbook and scribbled something down. She then handed it to T’Challa. “This is my number. Let me know when you guys are in the area again okay? I would love it if you could meet my son.” Even though she was addressing both of them, she was looking shyly at the king. Nakia and Okoye closed in on them glaring and Desiree slipped into her building. 

T’Challa and Sam walked off the stoop to meet the female warriors. Sam expected them to start fretting over their leader but instead they zeroed in on him.

“You said that he would be back by the time the street lights are on.” Okoye said, pointing to the lamp on the corner. “They are on and he is here.”

"Do all Americans have no sense of honor?” Nakia continued. She stepped to him and even though they were the same height, she seemed to loom over Sam. “It is best to follow through on your promises Falcon. We will not tolerate this again.” They turned to their liege. “Your highness, if you could.” They gestured to the ladder that was lowered from the aircraft.

T’Challa clasped Sam’s shoulder and smiled. “I enjoyed myself today. We will do it again.” He walked off with his guards and climbed onto the rope ladder. As the vehicle pulled off, Nakia and Okoye seemed to be scolding the ruler who was staring at Sam. He got that soft look on his face, the one that showcased his kind eyes and beautiful mouth, and waved goodbye as the plane took off.

“Y’all see this shit?” Someone called from the window in the apartment across the street. Someone walked up to Sam with a handful of groceries.

“Who was that?” He asked. 

“The King of Wakanda.” Sam said loud enough for the nosy neighbors to here.

“That’s one smooth son of a gun.”

“Tell me about it.”

“He single?” A girl asked from her balcony, phone still recording the plane in the distance. “Need me a brother like that.”

 

* * *

 

That night(or rather early morning because of the time zone difference) in his royal chambers, T’Challa received a message on his phone. It was a text message from Sam and attached were pictures and videos showing him and his Dora Milaje take off into the night sky. The message read ‘You sure know how to make an exit’. 

A warm flutter hummed in the king’s chest at the thought of Sam thinking about him still, well after their meeting. After the...what did Sam call it...the read receipt was shown, Sam texted again a screenshot of Mama’s Dinner’s twitter with their picture in front of the building. ‘You broke the internet’. In the screenshot he could see over two hundred thousand likes and almost a half a million retweets. 

He texted back: ‘that’s good?’. Within seconds he received ‘very good. Hmu when you aren’t doing kingly stuff’. A second later ‘hmu is hit me up. Which means contact me’.T’Challa smiled at his phone for a long time. A final message was sent to him saying: ‘back to your regularly scheduled kingly duties’. 

"You’ve been smiling at you phone a lot lately. Is there an American girl I need to know about?” Shuri asked teasingly. His sister walked into his room and sat on his large bed that could use a second body to warm it. Preferably a body with smooth mahogany skin, a welcoming smile, bright eyes that belied infinite hope, and strong hands that T’Challa imagined would fit perfectly with his.

“No. There is no time for something like that.” He said, turning off his phone. He pulled on his mask and assumed the Black Panther mantle.

“There is always time for love brother.” Shuri replied in a sing song voice. She fell back onto his bed and looked up at him. “You’ve been smiling so much lately. Whatever you’re doing keep doing it.” She rolled off his bed and headed back towards the door. “Mother wants to speak to you but I want to spar a bit, come to the training room before she tears into you.”

T’Challa just hummed a reply. He walked towards the wide balcony which had the perfect view of the sun rising over the Wakandan skyline. He opened up the stupid app Sam made him download and snapped a picture. In the comments he wrote ‘We even do sunrises better’ before sending it to mrfalcon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be from T'Challa's perspective(sorry for the switch at the end I'm really excited to do him). Let me know if there are any Black characters you would like to see. Luke Cage, Rhodey, and Monica Rambeau will be featured in later chapters.


	3. Gangsta Lyrics and Basketball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa learns about respek and basketball. Also he thinks Sam's smile is amazing.

“So what did you do?” Sam asked, his face projected on a giant holographic screen. T’Challa had just came back from a wedding he officiated for the daughter of a high ranking military officer. As the Black Panther, he was not only their king but their religious leader as well. Now he was alone in his royal chambers relaxing even though he was still in the Black Panther suit. He had decided to call Sam after returning home because for some reason, the ceremony made him think of the American.

“What could I do? I couldn’t force the marriage.” He replied, taking off the ceremonial jewelry.

“I don’t know..maybe marry them all?” T’Challa gave Sam a flat look. “What? There isn’t polygamy in Wakanda? What did the daughter’s lover say when he stopped the ceremony?”

“She actually.” The king takes in his friend’s mild surprise before the idea is quickly accepted. Sam doesn’t have holographic technology so he is connected through a web camera in his apartment. His eating spaghetti at his desktop, not hiding the fact that he was nosily looking around T’Challa’s room for all the details it had.

“Okay, what did she do?”

“She challenged the groom to a fight and said that the winner would get her heart.”

“A fight?”

“Yes. It’s an ancient custom for a woman’s suitors to battle to show off their physical prowess.”

“You guys just like to kick ass.” T’challa laughed in response. “I’m serious. It’s ‘duel me for potatoes’ this and ‘I challenge your honor, fight me’ that. I think your country needs collective anger management.”

“We are a peaceful people despite our warrior spirit. And potatoes aren't native to Wakanda.” The king stated simply. Sam rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean. So did they fight?” The Falcon got up from his computer desk to drop his dish in the sink. T’Challa could hear the water running from somewhere beyond the camera’s scope.

The king took off the Panther suit and slipped into traditional Wakandan sleep pants. Instead of settling into his bed, he pushed the hologram to the ceiling. With one swift jump he was resting on one of the several perches in the room. An elegant portrait of a black panther was painted on the wall which flowed into a mosaic that lined the upper trim of his walls. He preferred to lounge on one of the spacious ledges, high above the ground. From this particular spot he had a perfect vantage point to see out onto the vast Golden City skyline, a view he could stare at forever.

“Yes.” He said as Sam returned to the computer holding his Falcon wings. The man took in his new position but made no comment on it. “The girl broke his nose.”

“And did you break it up?”

“It would have been disrespectful to do so but bride’s father was not happy. The groom was a rising military officer and their marriage would have created a powerful tribe alliance.”

“So?” Sam said, prompting him to finish.

“So what? The challenger won. I married them instead.” Sam started laughing.

“And how did this remind you of me?” T’Challa sat back and thought for a moment. The husband to be looked nothing like Sam, was brutish and stoic where the therapist was good natured and hospitable. There was nothing American about the very traditional marriage.

“I don’t know…it seemed like one of those filmed drama shows you like so much.”

“Maury? Oh my god that's hilarious. I knew you liked them!”

“It's obviously fake.”

“Yeah but all I can imagine now is a Wakandan baby mama threatening to skin the daddy.” T'Challa rolled his eyes; as far as he knew nothing like that has happened but it wouldn't hurt to scroll through some news archives later.

“You’re a genius right?” Sam asked as he fiddled with his jet pack, showing the exposed wiring.

“Something like that.” T’Challa replied with a half smirk.

“Do you think you could give me some help on this? I’ve been listing to the left recently.”

“Let me see.” Sam backs up in his seat and shows the backpack sized machine. “No I mean- put it on the table.” Sam did as he was told. T’Challa brought up a second hologram screen, setting up a second scanner.

“Flip it over.” The scanner took a 360 view of the wing set before displaying a perfect replica next to him. Sam watched amazed at the sight. “Since your using your webcam, I can’t get the right compatibility but this is close enough. It should have also done a profile on the wiring.”

“Wow… I forget that you are Tony level smart.” The king scrunched up his nose at the comparison.

“Just because I don’t go around screaming about my various degrees doesn’t mean I’m not as smart as him.” Sam was busy watching T’Challa with this wide eyed expression.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked, in a quiet voice. The Wakandan stopped rotating and examining the wing set to look at the man directly through the video chat. For a moment, he could see into the American’s usually stunningly bright eyes. He saw a hollow and brittle darkness in them. T’Challa’s sense of justice burned and he decided that Sam had no right to ever look like that; his face looked better when he was smiling brightly.

“What?”

“You, Cap. You guys are amazing. Incredible. I can’t compare to you. Don’t you have better things to do but to talk with a side kick?” T’Challa glared at Sam, almost offended.

“I decide who is worth my time and you are worth it. And since it is the will of the Black Panther to chill with you, the chilling will be done.” He said definitively. After a moment of silence, Sam bursted out laughing.

“Are you serious? Did you think that would work?” Sam said, words almost getting caught in the between his chuckles. The king could only smirk.

“My word is law.” Sam just gave a tired smile, his face worn from laughing so hard.

“Nothing will ever convince me that you aren’t a spoiled cat.” T’Challa uncurled a grin that was very feline in nature, haughty and relaxed.

“Let me show you why I am smarter than Stark.” He said as he proceeded to look at the holograph of Sam’s wings. They spent the rest of his night and Sam’s day talking over the schematics and how to make the wings work even better than before

* * *

 

T’Challa hadn’t once looked up from his phone. He was texting away and occasionally snickering. He was waiting for the rest of his advisors to file in so the can start their morning meeting. These meetings generally consist of general updates of the state of the country, viewing the status of the vibranium mines and other important economic sectors, looking at any reports submitted by Wakandan chieftains, and reviewing any other progress on projects around the country. Most of the time Wakanda ran pretty smoothly so there wasn't ever any exciting, weird events to note. The meetings ran about two hours long and were very routine. The king would never admit it but he actually found it...boring. It was one of his duties that were not interesting in the least.

Texting Sam made it a bit more bearable. The American was funny and easy to talk to. Even though he joked about it at times, he was the only one who didn't treat him like a ruler. Even N’Gassi, who he loved dearly, could get away with saying only so much. If he didn't want to hear something he could shut anyone down. This included his mother and sister, Nakia, Oyoke, and W’Kabi. Knowing that Sam didn't have to submit to that obligation was refreshing.

T'Challa received a link to YouTube from Sam. ‘This is what I was talking about’ he wrote. When he opened the link it lead to a clip titled “Birdman HEATED”. T'Challa activated his small wireless headphones to listen to the video. After it was done he replied ‘rolling on the floor laughing’. A moment after he got a message saying ‘you probably didn't even smile’. Now the T'Challa really cracked a grin and replied ‘Guilty. I don't understand all the way. He's a rapper?’. Sam wrote back: ‘yeah. The people on the radio show were calling him gay for kissing another rapper. Question’. T'Challa sent back a question mark but as the screen showed that Sam was typing back, N’Gassi interrupted him with a cough.

“Your majesty, we are ready to begin.” T’Challa turned his phone off and followed his trusted advisor into the grand meeting hall. He noticed the elder stare at him as he took his seat at the head of the table.

“Yes?”

“Shuri and I have been talking,” The king rolled his eyes. “and she told me about the possibility of you seeing an American.” N’Gassi said solemnly.

“I-”

“My King, I know you are young but your late father has left a huge hole in our country. We need all the focus of the Black Panther in these trying times. There will be women in the future T’Challa. Wakanda should, for now, be your only love.”

“You know that I live, breathe, and bleed with love for Wakanda. All I have done is established a sound relationship with an American superhero. It's important for us to have a good connection with them as their super powered community gains in numbers.” T'Challa stated. N’Gassi didn't look impressed.

“Well, I hope you do well to remember that westerners can only be trusted so far.”

“This one is different. He is Black. African Americans have never done Wakanda wrong.”

“Still. Be weary. His allegiance lies with them.” With that other advisors filed in and took their seats. The meetings began with no more talk of American lovers or who to trust.

The Wakandan council sat down at the table, T'Challa at the head. N'Gassi stood to begin the meeting.

Buzzz. Buzzzz. Buzzzz.

Everyone's eyes turned to their king. T'Challa looked down sheepishly and pulled his phone out from his pocket. He believed he turned it off. He saw the messages from Sam: ‘question do you like rap music?’. His finger slipped on yet another link.

“East Atlanta, Zone 6, that's my hood  
That's my hood, nigga, that's my hood  
Glenwood to Gresham Road, that's my hood  
That's my hood, nigga, that's my hood”

The music stopped abruptly. The council men looked at their king with a mix of emotions: disgust, confusion, but mainly pure shock that something like that had played in their hollowed halls.

“I...am just getting exposed to Black American culture…”

N'Gassi was not pleased. Neither was his mother when she heard about it later that night.

* * *

 

T'Challa had left that night for America to arrive in the afternoon there. He wasn't really phased by the time and he was a bit excited. It was the first time he had been “allowed” to go by himself. The council had ruled that his relations with the Americans were sound enough to trust that he is safe despite the… Incident that Shall Not be Named that happened last week. However he is not allowed to pull a move like he did two weeks ago and leave his communicator and tracker in a car.

Even now, T'Challa couldn't place why exactly he did that. He just wanted a bit of time with Sam away from being king and away from the mantle the title brought him. It was a bit of a symbolic action, him freeing himself from the chain of his position and having the opportunity to just exist with Sam in the moment as a regular person. Sam brought that kind of feeling out of him: the need to be seen as just another guy.

He walked into the tower and was greeted by said man who was dressed in basketball shorts and a baggy, sleeveless shirt. He smiled brightly like he always did and T'Challa's heart did a flutter that he just called something Sam. T'Challa himself in causal training clothes. Sam did some he called “dap” which was some type of cross between a hug and a handshake with some finger motions. He lead the king into the elevator.

“So here's the deal: me, you, Steve, and Rhodey- do you know Rhodey?” T'Challa nodded. “Okay good. You, me, Steve, and Rhodey. Two on two b-ball.” He explained excitedly as the elevators opened up to a large court. The other men were already there dressed in basketball shorts and t-shirts as they shot hoops casually. Steve smiled when he noticed T'Challa and Sam come in.

“It's good to see you T'Challa.” The Wakandan snapped back a comment telling him to not address him so casually but Steve was Sam's friend and T'Challa liked Sam so he had to at least tolerate him. They shook hands and then T'Challa went on to Rhodey.

Rhodey was a strong looking man with dark brown skin. He had close cropped hair(a military cut?) and twin dimples on both cheeks.

“It's nice to finally meet you man.” T'Challa and Rhodey dapped up as well and the American looked impressed. “Sam teaching you all the moves huh?” T'Challa was only half listening because he heard Steve mumble something behind them. He turned to see Steve’s arm draped across Sam's shoulders. Which was….interesting.

“Moves? I don't get taught any moves!” The captain said with a fake look of pain. Sam shook his head.

“Sorry Steve you gotta have this much rhyme to learn the moves.” Sam held up his forefinger and thumb so they were barely a centimeter apart. Steve gasped.

“I have rhythm!” The two went on for a bit more before Rhodey rolled his eyes and threw a basketball at them. Steve caught it without looking away from Sam’s smile which was….interesting.

“Stop the flirting love birds. We came he to play not date.” Rhodey called as he moved toward center court. Everyone else followed. Steve started to dribble.

“Just because you miss Tony doesn't give you an excuse to be jealous Rhodes.” The captain said.

“In your dreams wing head.” He shot back. The whole ordeal seemed so familiar and warm and T'Challa felt distinctly outside of their friendly bubble.

Sam being Sam must have saw his discomfort because he came to bump T'Challa on the shoulder with his. Even after the brief touch, the skin on skin contact still heated the Wakandan's entire body.

“Don't mind those two. They have been fighting for Tony's hand in marriage since forever.” Sam said and then continued to talk to cut off any protest. “Now let's play before you put T'Challa to sleep. The teams are me and Steve versus T'Challa and Rhodey. One suped up man per team. Me and Steve got this side,” he pointed to the right. “And that's your side. Any questions?”

Sam left to stand closer to Steve and T'Challa wanted to pull him back and say he will be Sam's “suped up” partner. Instead he nodded and returned Rhodey's fistbump.

“They're going down.” Rhodey declared. He paused for a bit. “We are Panther Machine and we will reign terror on the court.” The man looked to T'Challa for support. The king smirked.

“I conquer all that is in my path.” He said simply. Sam chuckled and T'Challa's sly grin turned to a genuine smile because he made Sam laugh and that's amazing.

“Whatever you say kitty cat. We, the Patriotic Falcon will make you losers red, white and blue.” Sam replied.

“That's lame.” Rhodey said

“You're lame!” Sam countered. Steve smiled helplessly at the twos’ antics. He turned to the king.

“I say we be the mature ones and-” T'Challa moved quickly: he snatched the ball from Steve took three paces back and made an easy three pointer. The soldier was stupefied, Sam was giddy, and Rhodey was excited now.

“That's what I'm talkin bout T'Challa!Let's get it!” Rhodey hollered and moved next to his partner. As Sam retrieved the ball Steve turned to him.

“Alright, you got me. No more mister Nice Guy you hear?” His tone was playful but for whatever reason T'Challa really wanted to punch him in the face. He was never unnecessarily violent and was a firm believer in mediated inner peace but when the Wakandan saw Sam clasp Steve on the back so close and friendly with a smile that the king wanted to keep for himself, he felt a bit of blind fury.

Whatever those emotions meant, T'Challa didn't care to examine them now. Rhodey and Sam checked the ball and the game began for real.

It was ferocious. No one held back. T'Challa appreciated all forms of physical exercise but basketball was a new skill he had not mastered completely. The Americans on the other hand were well seasoned in the game. The score was 70-58 with the Patriotic Falcons up. Sam was dribbling the ball with T'Challa to his back. The man was covered in sweat as he kept low. The king made sure he didn't have an exit.

“That's all you got kitty cat?” He said between pants. Sam’s back was only an inch or so away from T'Challa's front. If the Wakandan wanted to it would be easy to grab the other man around the waist and pull him flush against him. His crotch would rest perfectly on Sam’s wonderful ass.

And that whole train of thought was so unlike the king he lost his position. Sam was able to quickly step around him and in an attempt to recover, T'Challa ended up falling. Sam shot the ball into the hoop in one fluid motion.

“Ankles broken.” Sam mocked playfully, completely unaware of T'Challa's perverted thoughts. The man held out a hand to the king but T'Challa believed that if he touched him now, it would make his thoughts worse. Instead he pushed himself up in a flip.

“Show off.” Sam said but he was still smiling. Rhodey jogged over.

“T'Challa I'm sorry but that was beautiful Sam.” Rhodey said and went to high five Sam. “That was awesome.”

“I know, I know. I'm the man. What's the score?”

“72 to 58.” Steve called as he come from the other side of the court. “But we have been playing for a while; call it a day and hit the showers?” He offered.

“Alright sounds good but losers buy pizza.” Sam said already walking off with Steve to the locker room.

“That's all you great king.” Rhodey said laughing.

All four men entered the locker room. The showers started and the room started to fill with steam.

“Sam! Don't you dare we are not doing this again!” Steve yelled from the far right. T'Challa, who was busy taking off his clothes, saw an already naked Steve being cornered by a very naked Sam. The Falcon had a devious glint in his eye as he wound up a wet towel.

“C'mon Cap, nothing to be afraid of. Just a lil towel.” The man came in closer. The super soldier grabbed a shower head and aimed it like a gun.

“You come any closer and I'm aiming for you lil birdie.” Steve had a delirious smile on his face. Sam faked appall.

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me Wilson.”

A battle unfurled as towels snapped and water was shot. The two men slipped across the tile floor chasing each other. Rhodey turned on a nearby shower and sucked his teeth.

“Every time with those two. It's even worse when Tony’s here.” He explained in fond exasperation. T'Challa looked at him.

“You join in when Tony is here don't you?” Rhodey laughed.

“You got me. It's only because Tony can't defend himself with a towel. In MIT he always got whooped. Badly.” Rhodey got a goofy, fond smile at the thought of the billionaire which T'Challa noticed happened a lot.

“Mind if I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” Rhodey looked him in the eye as he stopped washing himself down with a wash cloth.

“Steve and Tony are dating right?” Rhodey's whole demeanor changed. His face was solemn with a deep crease in his brow.

“Something like that.”

“And you don't like it.” T'Challa observed. Rhodey stared at him for a moment before sighing.

“It's- I don't even know. No point in gossiping like a teenage girl about it.”

“Nah, spill the proverbial tea.” The American looked at him for a long time before roaring with laughter.

“Oh God, are you secretly hilarious?” T'Challa put a finger to his lips.

“Shh. It's a well kept secret.” Rhodey chuckled, shaking his head.

“Fine. You want the tea? I think it's bad for Tony. He idolizes Cap and being in a relationship with him isn't healthy. I mean he dressed up as Captain America six years in a row when he was a kid. And do you know about the Hall of Captain America in the Stark mansion? It's borderline creepy.” Rhodey said, his eyes drifting to the other two men who were lost in their play world. He lowered his voice. “He would do anything for that man. And that's not a power I think Steve deserves.”

T'Challa finally walked under the warm water and also turned to look at Sam and Steve. Steve leaped over benches and was aiming the shower head at Sam who was throwing wadded up towels at the man's head as if he was still playing basket ball.

“Interesting.” The king said. He moved to grab his own washcloth and soap so he could begin to was the work out sweat off him.

“I'm guessing you don't like that very much huh?” Rhodey pointed his chin at the other men. T'Challa's eyes went wide and Rhodey just smirked. “I'm not as dumb as I look. I notice things.”

The African American had verbalized something T'Challa himself had yet to name. He did enjoy Sam's company, loved to hear him laugh and see his smile. He appreciated his bluntness and his dedication to justice on the battlefield. And yes, his heart did clench up as he watched Steve and Sam called a truce, with the Captain’s arm loosely thrown over Sam’s shoulder. He looked into Rhodey's eyes.

“Something like that.” Rhodey gave a soft smile.

“Your secret’s safe with me. We gossip buddies now. Gotta stick together.” He held up a fist and T'Challa returned the bump.

“That's appreciated.”

“Did you guys know that I put Steve on to washcloths? He just put the bar of soap on his skin like a barbarian!” Sam called, a towel hanging on his hips by a prayer. Steve also had a towel around his waist as he shook out the excess water from his blond hair.

“Hey! I showed you how to tie a bow tie!” Steve shot back. Sam just shrugged.

“Whatever man. I did you a service.” Sam finally looked T'Challa in the after what seemed like years. “Do you have wonderful spa like showers in your palace your highness?”

“What do you think?” The king replied with a smirk. He shut off the water and walked to a neatly fold towel that rested on top of clothes Steve was letting him borrow.

“How about these fluffy towels? They can't possible be beat.” Sam shoved a towel in T'Challa's face and massaged the cotton into his cheeks. “Feel that quality.”

T'Challa knew Sam was just kidding but he couldn't help himself.

“They day you show me something America has done better than Wakanda, I'll eat my cape.” T'Challa wagered. Sam smiled wickedly.

“Y'all heard that right? T'Challa is going to eat his cape when I show him something America has done better!”

“You'll be looking for a long time.” Rhodey said as he put on his shirt.

“No, I think there is a million and one things we have done better than Wakanda.” Steve countered.

“Don't worry kitty cat here will be begging for mercy when I present him with the best thing ever. He will rue the day he messed with ‘Merica.”

“I'll believe it when I see it Wilson.”

Little did Sam know America had already produce the greatest thing T'Challa had ever seen: him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics are from Gucci Mane's song 'That's Gangsta'. As a Black person who uses the n-word a lot, I thought hard about whether or not to include it in the chapter and now two months later I decided to uncensored it. Anyway, the next chapter is coming soon but I have like a million and one open works for this couple because I'm dedicated to these lil cutes. Please leave comments so I can improve!  
> (Sorry for the long ass end note)


	4. The Warrior vs The Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a light jog. It was supposed to be an energizing morning spent with two of his best friends but somehow it turned into this.

* * *

It was a balmy Wednesday. The sun seemed to hang low in the morning sky, lazily warming the earth. The park was open and the fields freshly mowed. This was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a light jog. It was supposed to be an energizing morning spent with two of his best friends but somehow it turned into this.

T'Challa and Steve were lapping around the park’s track with all their might. Sam had given up trying to keeping up with them or keeping count of how many times the two had passed him. A conservative estimate would be a shit ton.

This was the first time he has worked out with T'Challa so maybe he was always this intense. Sam wouldn't put it past him; the Wakandan took exercise very seriously. Steve on the other hand never acted like this during warm ups. When he did something like jogging or simple reps he preferred to take it easy, loosening his muscles and letting the work become mindless. Sam has seen Steve lose himself in the repetitive counting, measured breathes, and narrowed concentration. He never went all out unless he was sparring but here he was using battlefield speed at a park. The other patrons had vacated the spot when they realized the two would not be stopping any time soon. Some had their phones out but after the first ten minutes even they had walked away bored. You could only see two overpowered supermen run laps for so long.

They had started about an hour ago, neither making great strides ahead. For a few minutes T'Challa would pull ahead only for Steve to take the lead for a bit. For the most part they have been neck and neck. Sam was laying in the grass spilling water as he watched to two go around and around. The best part about all of this was that he got to watch T'Challa's muscles flex and glisten with sweat. The man could make dying look good.

Finally after over ninety minutes of non stop running, T'Challa and Steve wore themselves down. First Steve then T'Challa skidded to a stop, gasping for air. Both of them were drenched in sweat. The American crumpled into the dirt track and laid flat on his back, chest heaving. The Black Panther was curled over with his hands on his knees looking like he's ready to hurl.

“Wow. That was...impressive.” Sam said as he walked towards them with bottles of water in each hand. “Very scary but impressive.”

The wakandan looked up at him with those shining dark eyes, lips chapped from exhaustion.

“Please. Water.”

Steve raised his hand in agreement. Sam happily complied and tossed the two bottles. Even with a body full of lactic acids, Steve's and T'Challa's reflexes were impeccable and they both manage to snatch it out of the air.

“You know, hanging with guys like you almost makes a brother jealous.”

Sam sat down in the grass between them as they gulped down the water as if it was the last thing they would ever do. Steve turned his head to look at his friend.

“Green isn't a good look on you,” he said. “And I think I need to buy new running shoes. I can feel the breeze on my toes.”

“Yeah well watching you two run for almost two hours really makes a guy feel inadequate. I've never seen something as crazy as that. And I say a giant lizard lay eggs in Manhattan yesterday.”

T'Challa finally eased his body into a crouch position. Sam had notice that this was his go to stance for relaxation. He never questioned it because the stance showed off the king's firm leg muscles and the curve of his ass.

“Normal is relative.” T'Challa said. He was looking at Sam, searching the American’s face while being unreadable himself. Sam always felt hot when T'Challa looked at him like that; it was as if he had some inner puzzle that only a genius like the Wakandan could figure out.

“Yeah well you suped up muscle men proved your point with your lil pissing contest. You're both pretty and fast.” Sam smirked, looking between the two.

“Hey!” Steve said from his patch of grass. “It wasn't a pissing contest. It was a friendly round of mutual encouragement. Right T'Challa?” The king quirked an eyebrow.

“I suppose.” He replied but it didn't sound convincing. When they were alone Sam would have to ask him what brought this whole….display of prowess on.

After the soldier and the warrior gained their full strength(which was, to Sam’s envy, a mere five minutes) they walked back to the Avengers’ D. C. base.

The team was in the capital after they were called in to talk with Congress about their role in protecting and serving America. That had been a long, arduous process that lead Tony to chartering a building to be made into a small headquarters. This was the seventh hearing and the building was finally fully renovated, equipped with JARVIS, spare bedrooms, a small gym and lab. It was nothing compared to the tower in New York but it served its purpose well.

They all left to take showers, Sam and Steve to their rooms and T'Challa to a spare guest room near Sdam’s. He had placed a few outfits in the room for whenever he found himself staying there.

When they stepped into the open common room, Sam was surprised to see Tony and Clint...playing video games?

The two had set up some type of first person shooter on the ridiculously big flat screen Tony had installed. The screen was split in half and the two were clicking away at the buttons furiously.

“Hey.” Steve said, smiling as he walked around the couch to be next to him. He was so happy to see Tony and Sam was a big enough man to say he was a bit jealous. He wanted someone to be that happy to see him. A someone with a powerful African accent and a pension for wearing all black.

Steve went in for a kiss but the billionaire swerved out the way.

“Don't! No distractions.” Tony said between gritted teeth. Steve sighed and laid back, utterly defeated. Clint snickered silently as he made another kill.

“That my friend,” Sam said to T'Challa. “Is a curve.” The king nods appreciatively, taking in the new information.

“Ah. I see.” He was smirking that smirk Sam loved to see on him because it made T'Challa look radiant.

The round was finished shortly with Tony beating Clint by a fair amount of points.

“You cheated.”

“I'm a technological genius and do this in the suit all he time.” Tony fired back. T'Challa caught Sam's attention before rolling his eyes. Sam couldn't help but chuckle. Nothing pissed T'Challa off more than a boasting Tony Stark. Thankfully the man in question didn't notice. Content in his win, Tony turned to Steve.

“Okay I can get a kiss now.” Steve was annoyed but complied anyway. The archer rolled his eyes.

“You spoil him too much.” Clint muttered, setting up the parameters for the next round.

“I'm used to a certain level of comfort.” Tony said with playful eyes. Steve said nothing and instead chose to kiss Tony again just because he could.

“Gotta keep my guy happy.” He stated simply.

“Disgusting.” Sam said, finally taking a seat on the other side of Steve. “I don't want to hear anymore of that man.”

“No need to be jealous Wilson. There's enough love in Steve's heart for the both of us. I just get a little more space.” Tony said before resting against Steve’s shoulder. T'Challa was still standing. He was looking out the large windows across the room but Sam could tell by his posture that the warrior was listening. T'Challa was face unreadable.

“T, don't you want to sit?” Sam offered the king look at him for a moment before speaking.

“Yes. Sure.” He sat down on Clint’s right side and looked at the controller. “May I?”

“Of course it's all yours your highness.” Clint said.“Do you know how to work it?” From the flat response the Wakandan gave he held up his hands in defense. “Hey! You Wakandans are like millions of years ahead of us this might be a clump of rocks to you!”

“They aren't that far ahead.” Tony grumped from Steve’s side.

“Yes we are.” T'Challa was now smirking Sam's favorite smirk again and the ex-parachuter wanted to get that face framed.

T'Challa examined the controller, flipping it this way and that. He pressed the four buttons lightly and watched how it changed the screen.

“Hey, I've got an idea.” Tony said. “Why don't T'Challa and Steve play versus? It will be interesting: the man from the past against the king from the future.”

Sam groaned.

“I just spent the morning watching these two run for an hour and a half at like 30mph. No more competition.”

“No,” Steve interjected as he took the controller for his boyfriend. “Let's play. It should be fun right?” T'Challa didn't answer. “I mean we both learn quick and aren't familiar with this system, should be a nice challenge.”

“Okay.” T'Challa agreed. “It should be...interesting.”

Sam sucked his teeth and pulled out his phone while Steve continued on about what would be the best settings for them to play on. Quickly he texted the king.

_Why don't we just leave okay? You can we could go do something in the city._

Nothing buzzed from across the couch but Sam knew the king got the message immediately. T'Challa looked at his wrist band that did so many things, Sam could never remember them all, and ignored the messaged. Sam was a bit offended.

_Don't curve me you just learned that! Don't do that!_

“Let's start.” T'Challa stated, eyes fixed on the screen. He was once again in battle mode. Steve was no better. He had pulled away from Tony to lean forward and braced his elbows on his knees. The lines of his face were hardened.

“Let's.”

Watching the two of them get acquainted with the controls and game play was hilarious. It was a good five minutes of walking backwards into walls and shooting at the sky. Tony, Sam, and Clint were instructed not to give any help. When the billionaire tried to sneak a piece of advice to his lover, the super soldier snapped at him. Steve and T'Challa had too much pride when it came to things like this.

After they got adjusted, the game turned ruthless.

“Holy shit! How are you even…” Clint trailed off. T'Challa had somehow made a kill shot from an impossible angle that made Clint, an expert marksman and avid gamer, stare in wonder.

Steve had countered with setting up a complex system of timed bombs and gunfire that trapped T'Challa's player in an explosion.

They went back and forth, exchanging blows that were more impressive than the next. Tony had lost interest after the first few minutes and walked off to do whatever he did during the day. Steve had barely acknowledged his boyfriend’s good bye.

“I didn't even know you could do that with a controller?” Sam was beyond astonished. “Of course y'all are the two most amazing people I know. Obviously you could do this. Why am I surprised?”

T'Challa stopped looking at the screen for the first time in ten minutes to look at Sam. It was just for a moment. His eyes, dark and shining, stared into Sam's. T'Challa’s face was again unreadable(a skill crucial for a king but a nightmare for his friends).

“Don't get cocky T'Challa.” Steve said. He had done something, Sam didn't catch it, and killed T'Challa's player.

The round had ended with Steve at 23 kills and T'Challa at 21. This moment was so surreal to Sam: a king of an isolated but rich African nation playing a video game he's never seen with a WWII vet that slings a shield. What was his life now?

The king wasn't happy. At all. He was a gracious loser but the sting of defeat was written all over his face.

When Sam finally turn his attention back T'Challa was back at looking at Sam now, studying his face for an answer. The African American grinned

“You guys should go again, I swear on my mama that the light got in T'Challa's eyes. Totally not fair.” Sam said.

“I'm telling Mrs. Wilson that you swore on her name.” Steve chided. Sam gave him a playful shove.

“I'm so scared.”

“I'm tellin her that too.They broke out into stupid giggles because Steve really would tell his mother and she would give him hell for it.

“Enough flirtatious banter you two, I want to see more epic kill shots. Actually - fuck - I'm going to get the third controller from my room. I want in on this.” Clint decided and left fast so he could return soon.

The king watched the interaction. Sam could see his eyes collecting data, processing it, and cataloging it for later because T'Challa's mind worked, to a scary degree, like a computer sometimes.

“Good game.” Steve said. His smile was huge and honesty. When T'Challa didn't reply, he continued.

“I'm going to see where Tony went. I'll come back in a second.” Sam didn't bother to mention that he could simple use his phone to check in on the genius. The ex-parachuter watched Steve walked away. Sam could tell he wouldn't be back in a second. They were probably going to have sex once Steve found Tony.

When Sam turned his attention back to the king, he realized that they were alone. Like he wanted them to be. While he wanted to be happy about this, T'Challa was staring at him with such intensity it made Sam nervous.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.”

“You're looking at me like it's not nothing.”

“Your projections are your own.” Sam sucked his teeth again and decide to lean back and away from the other man.

“I hate it when you do that.”

“What?”

“The whole sagely king act. Cut it out, you sound just like Cap when he thinks he has the moral high ground.” Now it was T'Challa's turn to suck his teeth.

“So he does it all the time.” T'Challa concluded with more venom than necessary. Sam looked at him in surprised.

“That's a little harsh don't you think?” Sam said carefully, watching his reaction. T'Challa simply rolled his eyes.

“Harsh? I'm sure a man like him can take a bruise to the ego.” Sam's frown deepened.

“It's not about his ego...are you actually upset that you lost? It's just a game.” The American had never seen the Wakandan act like this. He seemed almost petulant.

“I know it's a game.” T'Challa gritted out. Again Sam was taken back and it must have shown in his face because T'Challa relaxed his tensed frame. Sighing, the king hung his head down, rubbing at the back of his head as he stared at the ground. “I know.”

“What's your problem man?” Sam was getting more anxious. What had he done to anger the king so much? He rewinded the last few hours in his head trying to think about what he could have done. Still, as self decapitating as Sam could be, he found that he hadn't done anything out of the norm and that the problem did truly lay with the king.

For a while they sat in silence before T'Challa sighed again.

“I'm sorry. Stuff at home, in Wakanda has been a bit stressful and I've taken it out in you… I’m sorry.”

Sam could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth. He had gotten to know T'Challa pretty well over the past few months and he had picked up on a few things. Like how the king would get a crease in his brow when he wanted to be convincing or the way his hands clenched when he was holding back an emotion.

“It's okay.” Sam replied. He rested his hand in the king's shoulder, soaking up the warmth of the skin under his fresh black shirt. “Why don't we blow this joint and get out of here?”

“I don't do drugs.” T'Challa mumbled as he turned his head to Sam. “You know that.”

For a minute Sam didn't get it before busting out in laughter.

“Holy shit!” He screamed, words half choked in his laughs. “No it- it means leave. Let's leave.”

His cheeks started to hurt but he couldn't stop laughing because this T'Challa's embarrassed face is too much. The man would get huffy and pout his thick(amazing, beautiful, luscious…) lips ever so slightly.

“Oh.”

Sam couldn't stop smiling even as his laughter finally died down.

“It wasn't that funny.” T'Challa mutter, indignant like a cat who didn't want to admit he got tricked by the red dot of a laser. The American gave a sly grin.

“It was pretty funny. Admit it kitty cat.” Sam moved closer to nudge at T'Challa, poking his cheek. “You know you wanna laugh.”

Finally the king let out an exasperated laugh as a sign of defeat. T'Challa’s laugh was golden and silky just like his voice. The wrinkles that formed under his eyes were so delicate for a man so tough. Sam decided he could do this forever; sitting here laughing over silly cultural slips next to each other and completely happy.

“Come on. Let's go before Clint gets back.”

“That's a little mean don't you think?” T'Challa said snidely, mimicking Sam's voice from early with an easy grin. Sam got up and pointed a warning finger at him.

“Watch it Mister.” He reprimanded but in attempts to keep a serious face, he broke out in laughter again.

“Come on, I wanna see the inside of the Washington Monument. I've never been in there.” T'Challa said while getting up.

“Wanna? What happened to that oh so proper standard English?” The American teased as he lead the other out to the front.

“I've been hanging out with a bad influence lately.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. He's a real hoodlum that one. No manners at all.” Sam feigned shock.

“Oh no you- I am telling Mrs. Wilson that you said she raised a hoodlum. You're gonna be in trouble.” T'Challa's playful smile became more serious and earnest.

“I would love to meet her. So I could tell her myself.”

Sam's heart stopped like it tended to do around T'Challa because if you squinted at the situation, it could almost sorta kinda be interpreted as a date with a boyfriend that wants to meet his mom. Sam's tongue got stuck to his gums as his mouth went dry. Mouth open slight, eyes wide, he knew he must've looked like an idiot.

“Uh y-yeah. Sure. My mother would love to meet you.”

The smile he got in return was worth the price of looking like a fool.

* * *

 

Being inside the Washington monument was nice but T'Challa had watched Sam's face the entire time. The man was a bit of a history buff and went on and on about all the markings on the wall or facts about the structure. He was completely in his element. T'Challa couldn't look away from such a heavenly sight.

After the moment, the walked around the National Mall for a few hours as the sun started to set. They went out to dinner, fought over who paid the tab(“I'm literally the richest person on earth. Let me pay.” “No way! You always pay let me get it this time.”), then walking back leisurely to the DC tower filled with laughter and stories.

If T'Challa had told anyone about their evening together alone they would ask when's the wedding. It did seem romantic but it was different with Sam. Stuff like this came naturally. It made T'Challa skin prickle. Being with the American was like flying, leaving him light headed and ecstatic.

He was a bit ashamed of his behavior earlier and was glad that the other man had not brought it up again during their night together. He didn't understand why he felt the need to beat Steve at everything. No. he knew exactly why, despite how irrational the reason was. He wanted to impress Sam. He wanted Sam to see him as the best option and to stop looking at the war hero like he hung the moon and the sun. T'Challa was better, couldn't Sam see that? The king reprimanded himself silently on have such arrogant thoughts. They went against everything he was taught but he couldn't help it. He wanted Sam to see only him and the only way the Wakandan knew how was through competition. It's what his father did to woo his mother, or so the story goes. It was what any Wakandan would do for the person they held dear. Sam wasn't completely wrong when he said that they were a people of challenges….

Their time together had ended with T'Challa in the jet hanger. He needed to go back home for some domestic affairs meetings and to see Shuri who was back home from her schooling.

“Have fun being king or whatever.” Sam said as he waved goodbye. It took everything in the king to not just go and wrap him up close for a kiss. Instead he stepped into his ship and smiled a smile that he hope would convey all the intense emotions he felt.

“Have fun avenging or whatever.” He replied then took off. T'Challa watched Sam get smaller and smaller as he flew away from the base.

 

* * *

 

It had been a long time since T'Challa had sat down with his immediate family for a meal. Being the royal family meant that there were always something to do. His mother Ramonda was often running internal affairs, dealing with the courts and chieftains. She also oversaw the Dora Milaje and served as a spiritual leader for the Panther Cult.

Shuri was still young. She still had some collegiate classes and vigorous training to do. She would often roam the country and while Wakanda was small compared to the United States, it seemed huge from within. Between the twelve tribes she would go out and learn, preparing to take on the mental stress of ruling the kingdom at T'Challa's side. She was finally home again after two long months away. T'Challa would probably never tell her but he had missed her presences.

T'Challa took off some meat with the injera and savored it. For the past few days in America he had only eaten their food; to be home and enjoying his people's food was the best. He wanted to have Sam try some of this. He was sure the man would appreciate the rich flavors.

“ _Mwanangu_ ,” Ramonda called. The table was small and intimate for the three of them. They ate from a big plate at the center.

“Yes mother?”

“How has your stays in America been? You've been going there frequently.” T'Challa chewed slowly. Shuri also looked up, curious at his answer.

“How is it? It's interesting. I've been learning a lot that texts and reports cannot capture.

“With your new friend?”

“Yes. The Avengers have been good company.”

“You should bring him here. The bird one. Sam.” His mother sad.

“I want to meet him too.” Shuri added.

T'Challa went silent. Sam invoked feelings he still was untangling and to have his mother and sister meet him would mix up those feelings further. The man had never been good at emotions like this.

“I suppose he could. If he wants.” He answered. “The Avengers tend to be busy.”

“He doesn't look that busy on snapchat.” His sister said pouting. T'Challa's eyebrows shot up.

“How do you know that?”

“I follow him” she answered between bites. “He's funny.” Ramonda was also surprised.

“ _Mpenzi wangu_ , I didn't know you had so much interest in the west.” Shuri nodded enthusiastically.

“We are becoming open to so many new things. They have such amusing apps. Have you tried the doggy feature?”

T'Challa thought back to the first time Sam showed him the app in the cab. He remembers the way Sam's beautiful brown eyes reflected in the camera and the ways his full lips stretched for a smile. T’Challa nodded slowly.

“Yes. I insulted it and the cab driver kicked us out.”

“Ah yes, you little excursion out in New York. That was very irresponsible of you. Very unlike you _mwanangu_.” T'Challa said nothing. Shuri smiled brightly.

“I liked it! This Sam brings out the fun T'Challa. Not serious T'Challa that is all work and no play.” She made an over the top stern expression, her brow furrowed deep. Her brother simply scoffed.

“There is so many responsibilities that I have taken on as king. We can no longer play like children.” Shuri blew out air between her teeth before resting her head on her hand.

“Yes yes. ‘It is our duty’.” Their mother smiled softly. She had aged finely like the richest wine. Her skin was a bright tawny color that popped against the bright Wakandan fabric. T'Challa was always captivated by her simple beauty and remembered hoping he would find someone half as lovely as her when he was younger. Now, T'Challa knew Sam and his mother had very little in common in looks.

“Yes duty comes first but a bit of joy is still needed. Now,” she turned to her son. “tell me again how that song played in the meeting.”

T'Challa's cheeks heated and Shuri snickered into her hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait school's been kicking my ass. Also I started writing a completely different chapter four and realize half way through it would be better as a chapter five. So then I needed to write a whole new chapter. Please leave kudos and comments. I love those 
> 
> Swahili:  
> Mwanangu- my son  
> Mpenzi wangu- my dear/love


	5. AUTHORS NOTE

Hey everyone. First I want to thank you for support for this fic. This is most def a rare pit and so every comment, kudos, and bookmark meant a lot to me. Some good and bad news. Bad news first: I’m ending this fic incomplete. I’m a bit stagnant and feel like the direction I’m taking isn’t great. The good news: I’ll be rewriting this! After I see Black Panther(opening night!!!) I’ll have a better idea in where I want to take this and use that as inspiration for this. So hopefully I’ll have a new and improved Panther Pws/Falcon claws for you before March. If you want to keep up to date with everything about this and more of my work for the Black Panther fandom, please feel free to follow my tumblr erikkillmongerdontpullout.tumblr.com Thank you and remember: WAKANDA FOREVER!


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